Sirius' Birthday Wish
by CinderellaAtTheBall
Summary: It's Sirius' ninth birthday and nothing is going the way that he wants. Canon negligence/abuse lightly implied.


_Written for Hogwarts Challenges and Assignments - Term 11, Assignment 8: __**Performing Arts, Task #2: write a fic from a child's point of view. **_

_Also written for Sirius' 60th birthday. :)_

Word count: 932

_Warning for some implied canon negligence/abuse._

* * *

**Sirius' Birthday Wish**

Sirius was bored. Mind-numbingly, unimaginably _bored_. His parents had insisted on throwing him a huge birthday party at Malfoy Manor — they _claimed_ that it would be too difficult to accommodate everyone at Grimmauld Place, but Sirius was pretty sure they just liked the fancy gardens that the manor boasted. They were always talking about them, anyway. "I wish we had a garden that was half as lovely," his mother would moan, or his father would grumble that a garden the size of the Malfoy's would be the perfect place for young boys to let out some energy — glaring at Sirius as he did so.

But while plenty of people had indeed come to Sirius' party, so far all he had done was make unpleasant small talk with various relatives he was never going to remember the names of. He certainly wasn't having any _fun_, although he supposed he shouldn't have been surprised by that. His parents seemed to use every party, regardless of the occasion, as an excuse to socialize and simultaneously pretend that they didn't know him.

He sighed and looked around at the green and silver paper lanterns and streamers some poor house elf had probably been forced to put up in the span of only an hour. Slytherin colors, he noted with disgust. No one had asked what colors _he_ wanted, of course. No one ever did.

The cake was equally nauseating — it was a huge, three-layer creation that Sirius was certain was not edible in the least. He shook his head. It would be just like his family to spend elaborate amounts of money on food that couldn't even be _eaten._

He found himself wishing that there were some boys around his own age at the party. Lucius Malfoy was there, of course, his arm draped possessively over Narcissa Black's shoulder, but he was about five years older than Sirius and already at Hogwarts. Sirius envied him. He wanted to go off to Hogwarts, too, but he still had two more years of living at home. His brother Regulus, the ever-obedient son, was hovering near their parents, and Sirius had to resist the urge to roll his eyes. _Perfect_ Regulus. He was probably having a better time than Sirius was, and it wasn't even his birthday.

Sirius' eyes fell on Rodolphus Lestrange, and his face broke into a grin. If he was remembering correctly, the other boy was only a few months older than him.

"Oi, Rodolphus," he said, walking over to him, "what do you say we go explore the gardens or something? I'm sick of these grownups. They're all a bunch of bores."

Rodolphus looked him over, his lip curling up in the kind of sneer Sirius' mother often wore. "No, thank you. From what my parents have said, you're a bad influence." He then marched away with his nose in the air.

Sirius' hands curled into fists. "I didn't really want to play with you anyway, you prat," he muttered to Rodolphus' retreating back.

He decided to venture out to the gardens alone. It wasn't like anyone would miss him, even if he _was_ supposed to be the guest of honor. The air was crisp, but his mother had insisted he wear a horrible suit comprised of roughly one hundred layers, so he wasn't particularly cold. All around him were tall, imposing hedges — they reminded him of his mother, somehow. He followed the winding path they made until he reached a trickling fountain. There, he sat on the edge and stared into the water.

"It's my birthday," he told his reflection. He scuffed his expensive dragon-hide shoe on the ground, knowing that his mother would have a fit if she could see him. "Some birthday it is, though."

He reached out and swirled his finger around in the water, causing his reflection to become distorted by the ripples. To his surprise, the water was rather warm. He wondered if perhaps it was magical, which then led to another thought: What would happen if he made a wish?

Sirius didn't normally believe in making wishes — there had been too many failed attempts when he was younger — but it wasn't as though he had anything to lose, really. He pulled a Knut from his pocket and squeezed his eyes shut.

"I wish I could go to Hogwarts already," he whispered. "And I hope that when I do, I make...I make at least one good friend." Popularity didn't mean as much to him as the idea of having someone to confide in.

He held his breath and tossed the bronze coin in. It sank down to the bottom, where it glinted back at him in the November sun.

Sirius waited a moment, but nothing happened. Disappointed that it hadn't worked, and frustrated with himself for thinking that it might have, he splashed some of the water onto the ground where it dried up almost instantly. "Stupid fountain," he mumbled.

The rest of the party ended up being equally disappointing. All of his presents were confiscated by his parents, Regulus was given an extra slice of the unappetizing cake, and no one even noticed that he had been outside for over an hour. When he got home, he immediately shut himself up in his room and made a calendar marking down the days until he would leave for Hogwarts.

It wasn't until many years later that Sirius thought about his ninth birthday party again and realized that maybe — just _maybe_ — the second part of his wish had come true after all.


End file.
